CSI: That Other Place
by Yellowfur
Summary: It's stupid, rapid nonsense, and is really a crossover with CSI and CSI: Miami, but it was fun to write to cure my boredom! And yes, both Speedle AND Ryan Wolfe are there! R&R but no flames. Review or Greg will cry.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or CSI Miami. Meep.**

**OK, before you tell me, I know the story is stupid. I know it seems like rapid nonsense. I just wrote this because I was bored, never wrote a CSI fanfic, and wanted to shake things up a bit! This doesn't mean I'll slack off on my other fics though.**

**Yes, it is a crossover with CSI and CSI: Miami. It bends reality, too.

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**

"GUESS WHAT!" Nick walked into the Las Vegas Crime Lab, where the rest of his group was eating lunch. "I'm going to get kidnapped, or otherwise harrased by some psycho! Again!"

"Great, so we have to save you? Again?" Warrick was eating a sandwich.

Greg was trying to figure out how to peel an orange. "Orange won't peel!" he threw the orange down on the table, frustrated.

"That's great, Nick…makes me want to…philosophize." Grissom looked thoughtfully into his coffee.

"We can't think about kidnapping! We have a case!" Catherine walked into the lunchroom and looked around. "Hey, why is the light off?"

"Dramatic effect," Grissom replied.

"Sweet. Anyway, this case is pretty cool! Read the description!" Catherine handed the file folder to Grissom. He took it and inspected it. "Why are you giving this to me? It's in Miami. That isn't even in the tri-state area. And besides, I hate those Floridian a-holes you had to go see for that one case. And this case isn't cool. This girl was just shot in the head in her bedroom."

"But look at the suspects!"

Grissom sighed, disappointed. "The suspects are her parents, ex-boyfriend, and best friend who she had a fight with. I've seen better suspects in Sara's pants."

"What?"

"Uh, nothing!" Grissom changed the subject. "So how is Lindsay?"

"She's fine. She just pulled a knife on her boyfriend and stole some fifth-grader's mp3 player, but other than when she makes her one phone call to me from the police department, she doesn't talk to me that much."

Greg made a wretching noise and pointed in the air behind the other CSIs, where the characters from CSI Miami had begun to materialize.

"Hi." Horatio Caine said without feeling (duh). "We decided since you've been to Miami already, we're coming to Nebraska."

"This is Nevada." Warrick said.

"You just keep telling me and eventually I'll remember."

Catherine handed him the case file. "But this case is in Miami."

Eric Delko grabbed the file and tossed it over his shoulder. "Now it's on the floor of Las Vegas!"

"But the evidence is in Miami." Nick commented.

"Then find us a new case!" Tim Speedle commented.

Catherine looked at him, puzzled. "Aren't you, like…dead?"

He checked his pulse. "Uh, no."

"You were before!"

"Oh, right…well, I came back to life, I guess. The bullet actually came out of my body, and the blood went back in. I needed a new shirt, though."

"_Dead people_!" Greg jumped out of his chair and ran into the wall. He turned around and sat back down, unaffected.

"That was the general reaction of the funeral party 3 graves over. I actually rose from my grave before the bullet un-shot from me."

"Whatever! Can we just do a case? I want to say science stuff!" Nick said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Ryan Wolfe stepped away from the Miami CSIs and stuck his hand out to greet Nick. "Hi, my name is-"

"You look like me!" Greg interrupted.

Grissom took out a magnifying glass. "He does look like Greg,"

Catherine shone a light in his face. "Hmm…"

Warrick took out a little swab. "I'm going to need some of that DNA, Greg Two."

"But my name is-" before Ryan could continue, Delko yanked a leash he had and Ryan went flying back. "Back, boy!"

Ryan wriggled, trying to get out of the leash. "But I want to go say hi!"

Horatio tugged on the leash as well. "Heel!" Ryan sat like a dog in response.

Speedle kicked him. "Yeah, be quiet Replacement Me. No one likes you. But they like me!"

"No one likes you either, Speed." Female CSI Calleigh Duquesne commented. Speedle went off to be sad, alone, and previously dead. "Just go to an internet poll. Only people that like liked your actor's crappy movies liked you better."

Delko looked at Calleigh. "I like Speed."

"That's because you're his partner."

"Yeah, yeah, world sucks for Speedle and people watch CSI: Miami only out of pity, big DEAL! I want to do a case!" Nick jumped up and down.

Speedle stepped forward to face Nick. "I want attention!" He grabbed Warrick's sandwich and tossed it at Calleigh's face.

Warrick looked mournful at the scraps of bread and lunchmeat on the ground and on Calleigh's nose. "…won that sandwich in a bet…" He put his head down on the table. "…sandwich…"

Horatio looked at Grissom. "We need something to calm Speedle down. Do you have any mace handy?"

"Hey, Speed, look! There's honey in the pantry!" Delko pointed to the closet.

"HONEY!" he imitated Greg's move and ran into the closed closet. But he didn't get up.

"I hate these weirdos. I'm going to go look at my bugs and think of snappy philosophies." Grissom said, walking out the door.

Nick shivered and ran behind Warrick. "I _hate_ bugs!" he hissed. "Especially fire ants!"

Sara walked in after Grissom left. "Damn, Grissom's bugs are so hot. Just like him. So do we have a new case?" She asked Catherine.

"Maybe when that portal in the back room spits one out again."

"It just did, my science homies." Al The Coroner walked (or rather limped) into the lunchroom. "Hey, who are those interesting people that smell like sunshine dust?"

"Just CSIs from Florida. So there's a case?" Sara looked over at him.

"Yeah, something weird."

"Not as weird as those people in animal costumes, the midget convention, or Liquid Man. What do you have for us?"

"I have for you: Faceless-Man Who Plays Guitar in a Band Who Was Found In A Toilet. How's that for a title?"

"Faceless like how?" Nick queried.

"Store-window mannequin faceless."

"That's my favorite kind!" Greg shouted happily, spraying confetti from his turban.

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**In this story Greg is a bit retarded, Sara and Grissom have slight romantic implications all the way through, and since Speedle was brought back to life, he has no soul! Mwahaha. Please review. And don't tell me how stupid it is, I know.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or CSI: Miami. I am neen-ja!**

**Chapter 2. And stuff. It's shorter than the first, but that means...you'll just have to deal! Muahaha!**

Chapter 2

"Okay, let's go to the little market where our victim was found dead and faceless in a toilet." Sara said.

Warrick looked at here strangely. "We're here already,"

"Yes, but the readers need to know where we are," Sara, Warrick, Grissom, and Greg brought Horatio, Delko, and Speedle along with them.

Sara turned her attention to Grissom. "Any word on the threatening note Nick got?"

"It's from that crazy guy who kidnapped him a couple of seasons ago," Grissom kept a long meter stick constantly at his side to show the Miami CSIs what his personal space limit was.

"I distinctly remember him exploding."

"Your memory must be distinctly shot."

"I _love _automatic doors!" Greg happily skipped through the automatic doors to the corner market. The other Las Vegas CSIs followed, then the ones from Miami. But Speedle tried to get through, but it closed on his foot when the others had gone inside.

"Ouch!" Speedle jumped back. He assumed it was just a glitch in the door, so he ignored it, looked back down at some random case file he was pretending to read and walked into the door (expecting it to open). He simply walked face first into closed glass doors. He stared at them, puzzled. When someone else came into the store, he quickly jumped in with them.

Meanwhile, Grissom was interrogating the store owner. Grissom-style. "Tell me, what did you do when you saw the dead faceless body in the toilet?" Grissom asked the red-haired manager with one eyebrow raised.

"I screamed, then checked his pulse, then called 911," he answered calmly.

"Awesome. Why did you do this?"

The man looked surprised. "Huh? I, uh…did it because…there was an, ahem..." he cleared his throat. "There was a dead body in the girls' bathroom."

"Do you regularly spend time in the girls' bathroom?"

"I just went in there because it had to be cleaned and my other employees went home."

"Do you regularly send your employees home early?" Grissom sounded suspicious.

The manager was confused. "Uh…it was 1 a.m. They wanted to go home, and they worked overtime, they deserved a break, so I-"

"SO you admit to staying up past your bedtime?" Grissom interrupted.

"Hey, Grissom, check this out!" Warrick called from inside the girls' bathroom.

"Yes?" Grissom walked in.

"LOOK!" Warrick said. "They don't have urinals!" Warrick looked shocked.

"That's because girls can't use urinals," Horatio explained as he walked in as well.

Greg came in and fanned the air around his nose. "It smells like pretty in here!"

Grissom walked over to the dead body in the third stall from the left. Grissom took out a small twig and poked the body.

"Uh…what are you doing?" Horatio asked.

"He's poking it, duh!" Warrick responded for Grissom.

"Okay, why?"

"To test how squishy it is!" Greg said, looking around at the bathroom, like he had never seen anything like it in his life (and he probably never had).

"That has little to do with evidence needed to solve this case."

"Nonsense. This person has been dead for 19 hours." Grissom said.

"Whoa, really?" Delko walked into the stall. "How did you do that?"

"Years of practice, dickweed." Sara said.

* * *

**Aha! Speedle can't get through the door because he doesn't have a soul anymore! Ah...poor Speedle. Mopey Speedle. Mini Speedle. Soul-less Speedle. Forgive my pointless rambling...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the CSI shows. Believe it.**

**Chapter-riffic.**

* * *

"What's the clerk's name?" Nick asked Grissom.

"How should I know?" he responded. "I only asked for the important stuff."

"Check this out, Las Vegas CSIs!" Speedle was standing in front of a mirrored wall. "I don't have a reflection!" He looked freaked out but also seemed to think it was pretty cool.

Greg adjusted the swami hat he had on and looked jealous. "Grissom, why do I have to have a man in the mirror that follows me around when _he _doesn't?"

"Because Speedle needs a friend." Calleigh answered for Grissom.

"You all need friends. You guys don't have any 'cause you're spazzes." Nick commented.

Calleigh gasped. "We are NOT spazzy!"

"Are too!" Nick persisted.

"Spazzier than spazberries!" Greg said.

"WE'RE NOT SPAZZES!" Delko's body convulsed.

Grissom walked in. "I have new evidence."

"Excellent!" Speedle and Delko both broke into rapid air guitar solos.

* * *

"This case is more complicated than Lindsay's night table a week after she ran out of her medicine…" Catherine said staring at the case file.

"I'm not going to ask you to explain that comment," Grissom replied.

"I mean, how could this guy lose his face and end up in the women's bathroom?"

"Maybe he angered someone with a blowtorch."

"Well, you interviewed one of the suspects, his girlfriend. What did she say?"

"She said she'll be laughing her head off when he's burning in hell."

"Well…then she's a big suspect, I guess…what else?" Grissom looked interested now.

"She said she wished she had murdered him herself, but she didn't. She had an alibi. She said she was cheating on him with eight celebrities; the nine of them were all in a room together…"

"Doing what?"

"Playing video games,"

"How is that cheating on him?" Grissom was puzzled.

Catherine shrugged. "It was a good alibi…very original, however, very unbelievable…but she said good luck proving it wrong. The celebrities are not easily contacted…"

"What do you mean?"

"One was Rodney Dangerfield."

"That's too bad. What else?"

"I found a strange hair on her clothing."

"That's exactly what we're always looking for. And?"

"It was his. It was strange because it was armpit hair. He dyes the hair on his head."

Grissom looked thoughtful. "How does one's armpit hair end up on the outside of one's shirt?"

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**COMMERCIAL BREAK

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**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or CSI: Miami. Stop grilling your underpants!**

**Happy almost Halloween! I'm going to trick-or-treat (even though I'm getting older) and I'm going to throw rocks at people who don't answer the door, and people who just leave a bowl of candy out, I'm going to take _all_ the candy AND the bowl. Naw, just kidding about the last stuff. Or am I?**

* * *

"Green October Fall Out Killer Gorilla All-American Red Jumpsuit Raconteur Starship-escence. That's the name of our victim's rock band." Catherine said.

"That's a mouthful," Grissom said in response.

"Or you can call them GOFOKGAARJRSE for short."

Delko stood up, excited. "Let's go nail these suckers!"

Speedle looked up at him. "Delko…what did we say about sugar intake?"

"Um…it'll make your ears bleed?"

"No, that's listening to Johnny Mathis. If you don't cut down on sugar, you'll ruin another case, and then everyone's pay will be cut down, and then-"

"And then I'll get beaten and robbed for the compensation by you guys. I know." Delko whined and pouted, slumping far down into his seat.

"I got beaten and robbed by a piggy-man just the other day!" Greg stated.

"Yeah, Greg looked like crap." Nick said, not looking up from the case file. He turned to Grissom. "Our guy was the bassist in the band. Warrick spoke with a couple of the members the other day, and-"

"Wait, when did he do that?" Grissom asked.

"Didn't you hear me? Other Day. Anyway, we're going to meet up with the band sometime soon, but from what we can hear, they don't really think our faceless victim pulled his weight in the band."

"Oh, and get this!" Sara walked in and jumped into their conversation. "In their garage, we found blood on the ground using the blood finder doohickey! There's both blood of the victim and of the lead singer and rhythm guitarist of the band. Also, we found the drummer's semen."

"Looks like our victim was missing more than a beat." Grissom turned to the others. "He was missing some blood, too."

Everyone just stared at him blankly. Grissom turned around and crossed his arms. "Damn that stupid fortune cookie…"

"Quick," Horatio called, in a perfect Ben Stein impression (that's how emotionless he was), "to the Caine-Mobile!"

Greg put down the Barbie doll he had been dismembering with a melon baller. "O-kay!"

"You left the Caine-Mobile in Miami," Speedle pointed out, trying and failing to fog up a mirror with his breath.

"Damn. To the GrissoMobile instead."

At this, Grissom looked triumphant.

* * *

"Damn, the GrissoMobile is so much better than the Caine-Mobile!" Calleigh commented as she and the rest of the Miami team stepped inside the GrissoMobile.

"How do we _all _fit inside this thing, both complete teams?" Speedle asked.

"Good question. _But I don't care._" Grissom responded. "Now where are we going?" He turned to Sara, who was riding shotgun. "Starbucks?"

"Nooo…" Sara looked at a map (strangely enough, it wasn't of Las Vegas, it was of a plaza in a small town somewhere in North Carolina). "It's 5550 Debauchery Lane."

Grissom stopped the car and looked at Sara. After about a minute, he spoke again. "To Starbucks it is!"

Cheers were heard from the back. Sara looked exasperated. She sighed. "Look, Gil, we need to…" She stopped. "What are you _doing?_"

Grissom was revving the engine and continuously glancing back at forth from the red street light and the person next to him. "Sara dearie, I can win this! Do you know how fast this thing can go?"

"Yay!" Greg said in response. "Go fast!"

"Go fast! Go fast!" The Miami CSIs (except for Horatio) cheered Grissom on.

Grissom stopped revving the engine. "I can't, the house where our victim lived is ten feet away." Grissom pulled in the driveway.

"Yay!" Greg said. "No, wait…not yay! We didn't even get to go to Starbucks and get that dark drink that makes my ears buzz!"

* * *

**CHA.**

**'Kay bye.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or CSI: Miami. The smell of death is strong here.**

**Sorry for the delay.**

* * *

"So you got into a fight with your band member?" Calleigh asked the lead singer of the band, who was also the rhythm guitarist.

"Uh…" He looked puzzled. "That's what I just said."

"Right. And that would explain how both of your blood ended up on the floor?"

"I... just said that… too."

"Right. And what does he say?" Sara pointed to the bassist.

"Nothing. The bassist's a mute." The drummer answered for him.

"OH, really?" Speedle asked.

The drummer blinked. "YEAH, really."

Grissom looked over at the drummer suspiciously. "But that doesn't explain how your semen ended up on the ground along with-"

"IWANTALAWYER!" The guy quickly interrupted Grissom.

* * *

Greg stared at Grissom. "What are you doing?" 

"This process…" Grissom said, trailing off in concentration. He put a rat in the centrifuge. Then he turned it on, and it spun, speed increasing with every few seconds. Greg stared.

After a minute or two, the poor rodent was completely liquid. Grissom proceeded to pour the goo into a large test tube. Greg stared.

Grissom poked a few different objects into the vile-looking muck. He put a sample under a microscope, fiddling with the dials. After that, Grissom tasted a sample of it. Greg stared.

"If I didn't know any better, Greg, I'd say this rat had sort of bubonic plague!" Grissom looked slightly surprised. He seemed to be in deep thought. Greg stared, unblinking.

"GUESS WHAT?!" Delko jumped into the room (clearly violating what was recommended to him about sugar consumption.)

"You're getting plastic surgery?" Grissom barely seemed to be paying any attention to him.

"Noooooo!"

"Security will come in a minute if you don't-"

"The lead singer of the band was having a fling with our faceless guy's girlfriend!"

Greg finally broke his stare at Grissom (a line of drool had gone down his chin). He looked over at Delko and blinked, first the left eye blinking and then the right one following a second later. "So… that means…" Greg thought for a minute, exercising his neurons to their fullest extent. "He's a suspect now, right?"

"He was always a suspect. Greg, go down to the nearest medical drama and ask to borrow a cup of the antidote for Black Death. I'm going to go see what other plagues this rat had. Then I'm going to put the leftover rat-goo in a vial and wear it as a necklace." Grissom sighed, thinking happily about wearing liquid rat around his neck.

"What did that rat have to do with our current case?" Delko asked as Greg obeyed his master.

"Hmmm… Grissom thought for a moment.

"Well?"

"Sorry, I never know how long a dramatic pause is supposed to be. The rat was the pet of the bassist."

"'Kay. Can I go now?"

"Where are you in a hurry to, Eric?" Grissom narrowed his eyes.

"Um, when you do that thing with the eyes, I can't lie anymore. I'm going to go make out with Calleigh in the bathroom." Delko confessed.

"Use protection."

Delko thought for a moment. "Um… bulletproof vests?"

Grissom looked shocked. "You need a bulletproof vest to make out with her? Oh, wow. Whatever floats your boat."

* * *

**Greg should stay away from those Grey's Anatomy people, you never know _what_ they'll do.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or CSI: Miami. Bandwagon's full, please grab another.**

**Okay, if any of you watched a certain recent CSI, you'd know that Grissom is sabbatical-ed. SO I'm making fun of it.

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**

"Nick, can you get Grissom in here?" Katherine asked Nick. "I need to talk to him about painting the lab paisley."

Nick sat unmoving in his chair in the break room with a blank expression on his face. "I can't. He's gone."

Greg burst in on them in the break room. "GRISSOM'S GONE?!" Greg started panting and clutched the doorway until his knuckles lost color. Panic consumed Greg, as he mentally spiraled down into a bottomless pit of chaos and disorganization.

"Greg, I need a sandwich." Kat said absentmindedly to Greg.

"Yes ma'am!" Greg snapped out of his panic attack and walked over to the fridge.

"Gee, Kat. You sure are taking this well!" Warrick walked in.

"Taking what well?" Katherine responded. When Greg walked over with a turkey sandwich, she grabbed it violently and stuffed it in her mouth. She swallowed it without chewing. Kat ran over to the refrigerator and began pouring the pickles from their jar into her mouth.

"Oh, right… she's a nervous eater…" Warrick said. He ignored her and smiled. He grabbed his new badge out of his pocket and shoved it in Nick's face (who didn't blink). "LOOK NICK! An official badge of official LEADERNESSOCITY!"

"So you're the next Grissom?" Nick asked, still blank and emotionless.

"God, Nick, stop being so emo. He'll be back in a few weeks."

"YOU MEAN GRISSOM'S GONE?!" Greg started gasping violently as mad fear filled his mind to the brim and began pushing him over the edge into insanity.

Meanwhile, Katherine had finished all the snack foods in the cupboards and moved back into the fridge. She grabbed a container of pasta salad viciously.

"HEY!" Speedle had just walked in. "Blonde Las Vegas CSI, you can't have that! It's mine!"

She responded by eating the collar of his shirt.

"…alrighty then. You just go eat that salad. Enjoy."

"So where's Grissom?" Greg asked.

"Gone. For like, 3 more weeks."

"GRISSOM'S GONE?!" Greg asked in disbelief as final, full comprehension finally shoved it's way through his cement-thick brain, causing his nerve cells to boil with lack of any idea what to do. He couldn't take it anymore and began screaming and babbling incoherently. He jumped to the wall and dug in his fingers, and began to claw his way up to the ceiling. When he reached the top, he hopped to a fluorescent light and clung to it like a teddy bear, ranting and raving. He suddenly dropped off the light and clung to Nick's buzz-cut scalp for dear life, babbling and drooling. Finally, he did a triple backflip off Nick's head and hit Speedle's chest feetfirst, knocking him across the room. He landed on his feet, sticking the dismount. "Okay. I guess we'll just have to handle our cases without him. I'll stick to the faceless-rocker case. How about you guys?"

"My chest…" Speedle murmured weakly.

Warrick's mouth dropped. "Speedle, why are you lying on the ground? We have work to do!"

"I can't feel my legs…" was Speed's small reply.

"I can't feel anything…" Nick mumbled.

"I don't have time to feel right now; I have frozen food to devour!" Kat had moved on to the freezer. She made inaudible noises as she shoveled down still-frozen pizza rolls.

"Wow, thank god Calleigh didn't use the taser this time!" Eric Delko stepped into the room, putting on his shirt and looking frazzled. "Speedle, get up! No partner of mine spends his free time on the ground!"

"I taste blood…" Speedle replied in a small voice.

"Well… taste blood standing up."

"Life sucks…" Nick said. Everyone turned around and stared at him. "I mean, one minute everything in your life is secure and perfect. The next, poof! Everything is changed for the worse and the world is suffocating you dry." Nick paused to sigh. "I feel like… cosplay and eating skateboards. And maybe having some Styrofoam insulation on the side."

Delko set Nick straight. "Nick, you started out good with the cosplay, but emos don't eat skateboards, Styrofoam insulation, and yarn."

"I didn't say yarn,"

"EXACTLY. It's not what emos do!"

"I want to die!" Nick clunked his head on the table. "Owww…"

"Hey! I have clues for our case!" Sara burst in. "It turned out that our faceless rocker died from a disease!" She smiled proudly. "We found out that-"

"No time for story development, Sara. COMMERCIAL BREAK!" Warrick shouted.

* * *

**Yeah, I didn't feel like getting anywhere in the case, sooo... they didn't. Greg's reaction was pretty much a word-for-word description of what I did. Aha, Just kidding. Or am I?**


	7. Chapter 7

"Hi, everybody!" Kat walked in the lounge, followed by an unfamiliar CSI. "Everybody, this is… is…" Kat paused, puzzled. She turned to the CSI. "What's your name again?"

"It's Keppler." The man answered calmly.

"Good for you!" Kat replied.

Greg looked cheerful at the prospect of a new teammate. "Hi, Kippers! I'm… GREG! Right, GREG!" Greg shook Keppler's hand. "What brings you here?"

"It's Keppler. I'm temporarily replacing Gil Grissom."

"GRISSOM'S GONE?!" Greg stumbled backwards in surprise.

"Hi Keeper…" Nick mumbled. He dropped his head down on the wooden coffee table.

Kat was still eating nervously. She stuffed her face with a jumbo size jar of trail mix. "God, Nick. Raise your head. Show some manners."

"Who's this?!" Warrick asked, appearing out of nowhere.

"Koppel." Kat responded with her mouth full.

"It's Keppler."

"You just keep telling me and eventually I'll remember."

"Who's this?" Speedle asked as he clawed his way up from the floor right in front of Greg.

"This is Keppler," Kat responded thickly through her churros.

"I look forward to working with both the Las Vegas and Miami teams," Keppler said coolly.

Speedle broke out in a cold sweat. _My God, this man gives off a larger jerk aura than Horatio does._ "Delko, what does the scanner say about his jerk level?"

Delko walked into the room with a complex-looking device over his eye. He took it off. "It's over…" he crushed it in his hand for no real reason. "NIIIINE THOOOUUSAANND!"

Ryan Wolfe dropped from the ceiling, landing directly in front of Keppler, then jumped back in fear. "WHAT? Nine thousand?"

"It's nice to know you people do things by the numbers in Miami," Keppler responded, then powered up his jerk aura to max, shattering beakers and test tubes, and causing Greg to start crying.

Horatio walked in, followed by Sara, who looked as if she smelled something awful. "Hey Speedle, what's up?" He asked, his eyebrows twitching.

"It's time for our daily dose of _actually advancing in the case!_" Kat slapped a case file down on the table. "We have new evidence!" She stuffed her mouth with Ranch flavor Quaker Rice Snacks. "Yum yum yum yum…"

"It says…" Warrick started. "That our member was supposed to be playing in a show with his band that night."

"Interesting," Horatio said, looking uninterested.

"There was a disagreement earlier that night… which might've given our and members a motive!" Kat put forth.

"A disagreement over what?" Speedle asked.

"Bandannas."

"…bandannas?"

"Bandannas."

"Bandannas?" Sara walked in and had no idea what was going on.

"Bananas!" Greg cheerfully stated.

"I'm more of an apple person, myself…" Nick stated.

"Bandannas. They were apparently trying to figure out what design to put on their trademark bandannas." Kat explained. "The choices were between a blue and black flame design, a red and orange flame design, and a Hello Kitty motif. Our member wanted the blue and black flames, but everyone else wanted Hello Kitty."

"Is that how the fight broke out?" Nick asked Kat.

"Oops, can't answer that, the author's revoking our case advancement time."

All of the sudden, Grissom came crashing through the ceiling similar to a Tom Cruise action movie character. He had a rocket propelled grenade launcher on his back. Grissom, with an action-movie-star scowl, shot it directly at Keppler. Delko got caught in the blast as well, and they both went flying out the window.

Grissom looked at his CSI team. "_Really_, you guys! This is the type of person you get when I'm gone? Honestly!"

"We're sorry," all the Las Vegas CSIs said in unison.

Speedle, open-mouthed looked from Grissom, to the completely broken window, and back to Grissom. "Why did you do that to Delko?!"

"He was in the way."

* * *

Al the coroner looked down at the table where Delko lay. "Well, he's dead, alright. What do you want me to do about it?"

"Uh, bring him back to life?" Grissom suggested.

"Break the laws of nature, worthy of a felony?" Kat asked hopefully.

"Get those Miami CSIs to stop sending those death threat notes?" Warrick added.

"Make me lunch?" Greg smiled hopefully.

"Everything but the last one!" Al said while Greg pouted. He took out a jug of liquid labeled 'WARNING: DO NOT USE AS EMBALMING FLUID.' The coroner put in a tube that he stuck in Delko's arm, and pumped it through his veins.

"How does this work?" Warrick asked.

The coroner looked up. "It contains Worchesterchester…Warwickshire… it's A1 sauce."

After about a minute, Delko sat up suddenly. "I'm fine!"

Speedle was watching the whole thing. "Oh! You brought him back to life! Sorry about that death threat note then."

Warrick read it aloud. "_Dear Las Vegas CSIs, I will come back to haunt you, after all, I'm actually undead. I therefore hunger for brains. Love, Tim Speedle._ Ah, that's okay man, we've gotten plenty before! Nothing new!" Warrick looked unfazed by the whole thing.

Forgiven, Speedle smiled. Then he suddenly had a look of realization. "Hey, how come nobody used that stuff on me when I died?"

"It's illegal in most states," Kat replied.

"Why?"

"Something about illegal usage of endangered species of Florida panthers and- uh, nothing! Illegal! Say… why don't we use this stuff on Keppler?"

"Sorry, can't do that," the coroner replied cheerfully.

"Why not?"

"We just… can't."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own "CSI" or "CSI: Miami". If I had a nickel for every time I've had to say that, I'd go to the mall and throw them at people.**

**Ha! You thought I forgot about this little dookie of a parody, didn't you? But really, sorry for the delay! And CSI: Miami bashing awaits you in this chapter.**

* * *

"Hmmm…" Grissom was staring at an exact miniature model of the crime lab. It was perfect, except of course for the undeniable fact that the Sara doll had multiple pins stabbed in it and had a note on top of it that said "YOU DIE" in red letters. "What could this possibly mean?"  
"Does it have anything to do with me?" Sara walked up to Grissom, holding files in her hand. 

Grissom looked at Sara, then back to the miniature, then back to her, squinting in thgouht. "No, I don't think so. Are those files on our faceless victim?"  
"Yes, they are," Sara shook the files in her hand.

Grissom took them from her and put them in a file cabinet labeled, 'Neglected Cases'. "We have to focus on the miniature killer now, otherwise we'll never get to it before the next season starts and we have to go to your funeral."

"Do we still have to work with those Miami CSIs?"

"For now, yes, but I think I'm going to put them out with the recycling next week. They're just like a lot of fish species: they're best in warm waters and they just stand there with their mouths open. In the instance that you shoot one of them in the chest, aforementioned Miami CSI fishy will flop around until dying. It has come to my knowledge that some of them are endangered. And if you underfeed or overfeed them, they'll die."

Sara raised her CSeyebrows. "Can we flush them down the toilet when they die?"

"No, that would pretty much be illegal to my knowledge." Grissom answered.

"What did you mean by them dying if they get overfed?"

------

Greg's job was simple: feed the Miami CSIs. Ryan Wolfe was the last one to feed, and Greg was handing him food out of the refrigerator. "Here's a turkey sandwich."

"Oh, good!" Ryan took it happily.

"And a bag of chips,"

"Chips are good,"

"And an apple,"

"Need my fruit,"

"And a water bottle,"

"Can't go without water!"

"And your dessert," Greg handed him a pudding cup.

"Everybody loves pudding!" Ryan added the pudding cup to his pile.

"Do you want some mayo?" Greg handed him a bottle of mayo.

"WHAT?! NOOO! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US WITH SO MUCH FOOD?!"

Greg cringed at being yelled at and looked near tears.

Horatio whipped Ryan once on the back, making him drop his food. "Bad Ryan. If you make Greg cry, we all get punished."

"Yoouu got whiiiiped!" Greg teased the ailing Ryan, who was in tremendous pain.

* * *

"Relax, I'm a coroner, I know what I'm doing!" Al the Coroner held up a chainsaw. "And last I checked, you two Floridian CSIs are just plain old, non-interesting CSIs, correct?" He was asking Speedle, who was angered by this question, and Delko, who was just standing there with his mouth wide open. 

"Not true!" Speedle argued. "We are actually- OUCH!" he was interrupted by the coroner stabbing him in the arm with a needle filled with embalming fluid.

"Grissom says I have to keep you from falling apart." Al the Chainsaw-Wielding Coroner explained.

"As I was saying, I'm a honey enthusiast, and Delko is something that the author of this fic doesn't care enough about to find out what it is,"

"Whatever," The coroner turned on the chainsaw. The second he put it on the body, it went straight into the lower abdomen and intestines went flying, most of the intestines landing all over Speedle and Delko.

Al the Super Coroner stared at their entrail-laden faces. "Uh... think fast?"

"You're supposed to say that BEFORE!" Delko shouted at him.

"Uh... oops?"

"Never mind. Just get on with what you were doing!"

"Right!" On the chainsaw went, deeper into the abdomen and now splattering bile all over the walls and the other two CSIs.

"WHAT THE HELL! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US YOU WERE GOING TO TURN IT ON AGAIN?!" Speedle demanded.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU THINK FASTER?!" Al the Defensive Coroner replied.

"I got bile in my open mouth," Delko complained.

* * *


End file.
